The Immortal Rules
by DixonWolf
Summary: Humanity has nearly been wiped out by a virus and Vampires rise to offer the human race protection. Daryl Dixon is scavenging to survive in a world taken over by monsters. He hates the vampires, but what happens when he becomes one? And worse yet when he is stranded with a group of humans and has to pretend to be one? Or when he finds himself falling for one of them? (Rickyl)


**Welcome to my first Walking Dead fan fiction. This is an AU based on a novel trilogy I read and adored known as the "Blood of Eden" series by Julie Kagawa. It's a dystopian world that has a lovely mix of vampires and zombies.**

**Summary: Long after humanity has nearly been wiped out by a deadly virus the Vampires rise and offer the human race protection. But it comes at a cost, their freedom, their blood, even their souls. Daryl Dixon is nothing more than a street rat, scavenging to survive in a world taken over by monsters. He hates the vampires that rule over them, but what happens when he becomes that which he loathed most? And worse yet, when he finds himself stranded when his mentor is kidnapped by a psychotic vampire and is picked up by a group of humans looking for the legendary city that is void of all vampires? What will he do when he finds himself caring about them and even more frighteningly, falling in love with one of them? Can Daryl really continue to exist with them, faking being human? Or will the demon he has become consume him and destroy that which he wishes to protect the most?**

**Ratings/Warnings: Rated M for death, violence, blood, gore, abuse, torture, adult situations, and language. It is also a slow burn Rickyl story so there will be male on male scenes as well.**

**The Immortal Rules**

**Chapter One: The Fringer**

The city was falling apart, buildings that were dilapidated, rusting out, and crumbling. They raggedly broke the horizon like shattered fingers trying to claw at the sky. Rusted metal pipes and I-Beams wrecked their surfaces, shattered glass littering the ground like a handfuls of tossed crystals. The hollowed out beasts that had once been a great human civilization were threaded through with vines as nature attempted to retake control of the gutted out cities. Old rusted out cars marked the street like gravestones to a time that no longer existed and never would again.

The area was known as the Fringe, the outermost area of a city that had sprung up all around the world. These places where known as 'vampire cities' and dotted the landscape. No one was really sure how many of them there were, as people never left. Not just because they couldn't, but because it was suicide to try.

Almost fifty years ago the world as it once was came to an end. Not an abrupt one, but rather a slow and painful one. It was a death that dragged on in its suffering and bloody horror. A new disease had reared its head, something not even the doctors were prepared for. The symptoms would appear rather suddenly; a bad cough, fever, and sensitivity to light. Harmless on its own, seemingly nothing more than a regular cold. Which is why it had been over looked at first. But soon after that, things got worse. People started coughing up blood and then bleeding from the eyes. And after that, death.

They had called it the Red Lung as in the end the victims' lungs literally melted away into nothing as the victims hacked them up. There was no cure and nothing anyone had done was able to stop it or prevent it and it was always fatal. Nowhere was there a single record of a person contracting the disease and surviving. In a few short years it had managed to wipe out nearly 75 percent of the human population worldwide.

That was when the creatures began crawling out of the shadows. Things of nightmares found their way into the world. Vampires. They came out and offered the world protection. These creatures moved into large cities and built up towers and walls. Humans were allowed to move in and live under the vampires' protection. And all the people had to do was sign up to be owned and donate blood every two weeks to their benevolent guardians. It was sickening, but there really was no other choice. It was either deal with the vampires' laws or face the _others_. For all their faults, all the cruel ways they had, at least the vampires still had their sanity.

A stale breeze blew through the city streets, kicking up a little debris. An old can rattled along the cracked pavement, stopping only when it got caught on a thick black boot. Daryl Dixon lifted his foot which allowed the can to continue its rattling path onward. His sharp blue gaze lifted to the high wall that surrounded the vampire city of New Woodbury. Despite the fact that these walls kept them all prisoner, the simple fact is they were impressive. 30 feet tall and six feet wide, the walls were made of thick cement, lined inside with as much useable metal as could be found. They were the only man-made objects that he knew of that had been built since the virus had started. Or at the very least the only ones that were still standing.

It was said that the Outer Wall was impenetrable. That nothing could get in or out without clearance from one of the vampire's little pets or guards at the front gate; the only gate. He had only seen it once when he had wandered too far on a scavenging hunt. They were large, steel gates that were held shut by an I-Beam so large that it took half a dozen men to lift it. Nothing would get in or out of those doors without someone helping them do so.

Or at least that was the popular belief.

The Fringe (as the outer portions of the Vampire City was called) was the last area before the wall that separated them from all the _others_ that roamed the nights in the rest of the world. This was where those known as 'Unregistered' lived. These were the people that refused to succumb to Vampire control. There were no records on them, and they did not have to go to the blood bank twice a month. They were free, ghosts of the system. It was something that seemed wonderful in theory, but it had its negatives as well. Because they were not providing for the vampire lords of the city, the vampires did not provide for them.

Unregistered humans did not receive the monthly food tickets from the inner city and therefore had no steady food source. They were forced to scavenge for their meals, to hunt, to steal, to do anything to survive just one more day. In truth it was an ugly life. There were many times that Daryl had been forced to eat cockroaches just to keep the gut wrenching hunger pains at bay. There was only so many places one could secretly sneak into for food before other's got wise and hid it. Those nights were not his most prideful and he would do almost anything to ensure they were few and far between. _Almost_ anything.

One thing he would never do; Daryl would never turn to the vampires for help. Those blood sucking creatures had taken everything from him and he would never go to them with his tail tucked between his legs. To say he hated them was a huge understatement. He could see what that had really done, how they had stepped in when the human race was at its weakest point and 'saved' them. In truth the vampires had shown up when they were at their weakest and took control. They had enslaved them all, corralling them up and shepherding them into their fences like mindless cattle. And what was worse was that the humans had run willing into those cages. They had become so frightened of the things that were going on that they did not care what happened to them as long as there was someone stronger around to protect them. The human race had simply given up and rolled over.

He lifted one arm slowly, peering down at the bare skin of his wrist. Unmarked, unregistered. Had he willing given into vampire control, there would have been a tattoo there. A barcode with a few words printed underneath. It would have read: _Daryl Dixon, resident number 6023, Sector 6, New Woodbury. Property of Philip._ Philip was what was called a 'Prince', or rather the vampire that ran everything in this particular city. Even the other vampires answered to him. So even though some humans might be owned by another vampire, at the end of the day all of them were owned by the Prince and he could lay claim to them at any time he wanted.

Daryl's lip curled up in a slight sneer as he turned towards the center of New Woodbury. There lay the vampires' home, also known as the Inner City. It was walled off from the Outer City and the Fringe by another monstrosity of a barrier, keeping the vampires and their pets and thralls cut off from the rest. Or it was more likely that it was keeping the rest cut off from them. Rumors had a way of spreading through the Fringe. It was often said that inside the Inner Walls, the world was different. People had beautiful houses, mansions really, where their kitchens were always stocked and they never had to fear running out of food. They had heat in the winter, and cars that actually ran. Nothing was falling apart and one did not risk their life by simply entering a building.

At times it was hard to believe that these things could be true, but there was one thing that made the stories easy to believe. From the very center of the city rose two tall, glistening black towers. Their surfaces sparkled in the sunlight and at night they cast an eerie, but beautiful glow. The Vampire Towers. The buildings where every vampire in the city lived. The structures were hauntingly beautiful because they were new and gave hope to rebuilding this world, yet they were filled with death.

Daryl turned his back on the sight, focusing his narrowed blue gaze back on the Outer Wall. He had more important things to deal with than his old hatred for the race that had taken over them. Things such as finding food to replenish his depleting stock. This morning when he'd woken up and searched for his breakfast he found there was only half a stale loaf of bread and a potato that was starting to rot. It had driven him out to hunt that morning but all his usual spots were empty. They'd either already been hunted or the owners had wizened up to his ways and started protecting their stashes. Which only meant one thing.

He'd have to go outside the walls.

It was a dangerous thing to do under the best of circumstances. Leaving the city meant finding a place to escape through. Most people did not think such places existed. They were happy to believe that their little world was completely safe, that nothing dangerous could get in. Of course they were wrong. There were openings all over through the tunnels that spider out beneath the city. Every once and a while, one of those things would find a way to get inside. Once they were dealt with, the vampires' pets would turn the area upside down until they found the opening and would seal it up.

Luckily they had never found his spot because right now he needed it. With nothing left in any of his usual haunts and his stomach starting to clench with the oncoming hunger pains, Daryl had no choice but to head out into the outside world to try and find something in one of the houses in the old ruins. It was something that no one else would do because beyond the Outer Wall laid nothing but death. And not just because of the creatures that lurked in the shadows of the night. Right outside the wall was what was known as the 'Kill Zone'. It had been set up by the pets of the Vampire to try and protect the city better. They had devastated the ground with coils of barbed wire, random hidden trenches that opened into deadly spiked pits in which an un-careful or unknowing humans could trip into and be impaled. Also, and likely the worst booby trap, old mines that were packed with enough force to turn human or vampire into nothing more than a cloud of red mist with just the slightest misstep. To top it off, if someone was lucky enough to make it past all the traps that laid in waiting, there was a constant patrol of guards atop the wall with large flood lights and even larger guns that would destroy anyone trying to leave or get in. New Woodbury, like all other Vampire Cities, liked to give the impression that it was keeping its inhabitants safe from the dangers of the new world when in truth they were simply keeping their food source close and trapped. Helpless, blind, stupid sheep to their easy slaughter.

No sane person ever tried leaving the safety of the city, especially when night was approaching. But then again, most sane people did not face the level of hunger that Daryl did or the guilt he felt when he could not provide for those in his small group. He knew it was not his job to keep the others fed. Any Unregistered in the Fringe would tell you the same thing. Only the strong survived and those that could not fend for themselves where better off left to starve to death. There was never enough food to go around and people were always going hungry, so trying to feed an extra mouth that could not pull its own weight was not only a waste of time, but needless risk. Still, no matter how many times he heard it, it did not matter to him. He would not let others go hungry when he could help, no matter how annoying or frustrating they could be at times. Life in the Fringe was precarious and he would not be one of the things that tipped that scale for some people. Change had to start somewhere, so why not with him?

Daryl sighed as he pushed a hand through his hair, brushing back the shaggy dark locks. It was starting to get late and he knew that if he was going to have any chance at doing this today and not getting stuck on the other side of the wall after dark he would have to leave now. So he started out, slipping through the alley ways of Sector Six in search of one spot. In the Fringe, the areas had been separated by thick, chain link fences topped with menacing coils of barbed wire. The purpose of this was supposedly to better regulate the flow of the food trucks that made their rounds once a month. But Daryl knew it was more likely that it better regulated _them_. It made it easier for the vampires to hunt when their prey was caught in cages already and could only run so far. The thought made him frown as he ran his finger through the loops of metal. Eighteen years old and already so cynical. Though he had been that way since he was thirteen. Certain events had a way of changing one's outlook. Like how he decided to never allow himself to register and become property to a blood-sucker after they had taken everything away from him because of their greed.

After they had taken her…

His thoughts were interrupted as the looped metal beneath his fingers gave way, sagging inward in a show of weakness. He smirked as he turned towards the spot and pushed on it with both hands. The weak part of the fence rolled away from the metal tubing, revealing the hole that he had been looking for. Casting a quick glance around himself, he ducked inside and let the chain link clack back into place behind him. In front of him loomed the large Outer Wall, gnarled pieces of metal jutting out in random spots like broken bones piercing through flesh. It took all he had to suppress the shudder as he chewed slightly on his lower lip. Going over the wall would be suicidal, what with all pitfalls that waited just on the other side if he even managed to make it past the guards and guns that waited on top. That was why he never went over the top.

He always went under.

He made his way quickly along the wall, darting from one shadow to the next as he tried to avoid detection. The truth was that it was not really all that hard. The guards cared little for paying attention to this side of the wall. Most people made no attempt to escape, content in their own little existence. And those that did were usually stopped easily on the other side. The guards really did not concern themselves with those things. Rather they kept their eyes on the outside, watching as night crept up and things began to move in the shadows. There were dangers in the world outside their city; dangers that far outweighed a few Unregistered street rats trying to make a suicidal run for it. The only reason they cared at all was because human life on the outside was like a beacon for those _things_ and no one wanted any reason for them to come skulking around. Dead meat did not seem to interest them, at least not _as much_ as living flesh so it was better to kill the bait in the trap then allow it to kick up and chum the waters.

Daryl tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind as he crept forward, pushing through a thick patch of weeds that grew to about the height of his waist along the bottom of the wall. He was careful to try and step around the trash the guards were always throwing off the wall, shattered glass bottles or the occasional jagged can. The last thing he needed was to get cut and catch an infection. Still he wandered around almost half blink until the toe of his boot caught the edge of something with a dull clang. Kneeling down, he pushed the tall grass aside to expose the large black manhole cover that lead into the tunnels underground. He had to be careful though because it he disturbed the surroundings too much people would notice and the vampires would swoop in and seal it up and there would go his one exit.

He knew the lid was heavy and because of it he had a metal bar waiting just off to the side. Grabbing it, he slipped one end under the lip of the cover. Throwing his weight into it, he grunted as the dark metal disk lifted with a loud creaking. Once it rose a few inches he dropped the bar and grabbed it before it could clatter back into place. The muscles in his arms strained under the weight, and with all the strength he could muster, he tossed them off to the side. It landed in the dirt and revealed the gaping hole that lead into the underground sewer system. It was time to start this little excursion.

Daryl swing himself into the darkness and climbed down into the tunnels. The black swarmed around him, blotting out his vision until he could not see farther than a few feet in front of his face. His fingers curled tightly around the rungs of the metal ladder as he lowered himself farther down until his feet finally touched the ground. Once he let go of the ladder, his blue gaze flickered upwards. The sun was beaming down on him, showing him that he had plenty of time. With a slow nod towards the idea that he had plenty of time, he headed out into the darkness in the hopes that he would finally find food.

The buildings in the ruins where in the same sorry state as the ones inside the city, which in a way made Daryl feel a little better. It made his own life seem less depressing to know that the same devastation that was around him every day plagued the world around him. The suburbs stood in front of him, broken frames of the houses gnarling the fading afternoon skyline. Daryl squinted against the lowering sun, blue eyes narrowing as he tried to decide which house to slip into first. There was a good chance he would not find anything. The human race was always trying to survive which meant scavenging for supplies. Because of that most of the good places had been picked clean not to long after the creatures started appearing.

Apparently there had at one time been places where people could go and just get food. Entire, huge buildings that were just wall to wall food that never ran out. Each time something ran low, they just ordered more and it appeared. Places like that were the first to get raided after things fell apart and where now nothing more than skeletons. And most homes were the same. People had slowly spanned out, trying to find places that were safe and not run by monsters. But in order to keep going on they had scavenge everything. So the chances were that he would come out mostly empty handed.

And after the first few houses he had been proven right. There was nothing inside any of them but molding sheets and rotting furniture. He had thought he'd gotten lucky in the third house when he'd found a box of jars but when he pulled it down he saw that someone had damaged them. The seals were all popped and a strange mold had begun to grow on them. Which normally would not have bothered him. He had eaten far worst, including insects. When you were so hungry that the pains left you nauseous and with a headache, you did not mind eating around the mold growing on your jam. Except these were so old that they were also rock hard. If he did not find anything else maybe he would stop back at this house. Sucking on lumps on jam still sounded better than nothing.

Daryl was starting to lose hope as he slipped through the window of the fifth house. It was starting to seem like a dud as well, the kitchen turning up nothing more than some broken dishes and rusted out silverware. Moving through the house he continued to rifle through drawers and cabinets, still turning up nothing, until he made it to a bedroom. He blew out a short sigh. There was usually nothing good in the bedrooms. Even though Daryl often hid food in the floorboards under his mattress it seemed that in the old days people did not keep food in the bed rooms. Still, if he was there he might as well look.

He stepped into the room and over a dark stain on the floor. Over time he had grown desensitized to such things. All he had to do was block out the thought of what might have caused it. Chewing on his lower lip he began going through the room, checking beneath the mildewed mattress, pulling open rotted drawers. A frustrated sigh left his as he slammed a drawer shut after coming up empty handed. His gaze turned towards one of the windows that lead outside, seeing the afternoon was rather quickly moving on towards evening. There was no more time to keep hunting and it seemed that he was going to have to face a night of battling hunger cramps and guilt that he could not help the others.

Just as he was turning back to head out the way he came in, a soft clacking noise caught his ear. Daryl froze, panic worming into his stomach. There was something else in the house with him. His hand moved towards the belt where a small knife was tucked into his belt. It was not much of a weapon, only about three inches long, but it was all he had to defend himself. He doubted it was one of the creatures seeing as the sun out still. That did not mean that it was not other scavengers, the kinds that were willing to kill a lone guy who was hoping to find some luck. He crept forward, knife held close to his body in case he needed to defend himself in a rush. Something lurched in the room across the hall from the one he was hidden in, nothing more than a staggering shadow. A rasping noise bounced off the walls, the labored breathing of something in stress. Though the sound at least meant that it was something living.

Daryl crouched slightly in the door frame of the bedroom in an attempt to make his frame a smaller target. The shadow in the other room moved again, coming closer to his hiding spot. His blue eyes remained narrowed as he tried to hide as still as he possibly could. He even tried to steady his breathing, which was not even given that fear was rattling through his frame full bore now.

That was when the deer stepped out of the room and into the hallway. Daryl almost let out a sigh of relief, though he held it in in order not to scare away the creature that was standing only a few feet away from him. Instantly his Fringer mind was at work. Wildlife was not something that was a rare sight in the ruins and though it was strange to see one somehow inside a house, there was only one thought truly on his mind. Food. This creature was enough meat to feed him and his group for a month. They could even dry some out and trade it for other things they would need like water or blankets for the upcoming winter. If he could somehow manage to sneak up on it and take it down with his small knife they would be set. Meat was rare in the Fringe, especially good meat like deer. Usually it was only rat, pigeon, cat, and sometimes the occasional dog if people could get past the feral fangs. Chances were that the creature would take off the moment he moved, but how could he let this opportunity pass?

Daryl took a slow breath, trying to ease any tension out of his body. He would need to be quick if he was going to be able to pull this off. His fingers clutched tightly at the hilt of his knife as he tried to play it out in his mind. He'd spring out, aim for the throat so that at least if it got away there was the chance that it would still bleed to death. The only thing he would have to worry about was trying not to get caught up under the animal's hooves in case things did not work out well.

Just as he was about to move, the doe swung her head in his direction. Daryl froze completely, heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach as he finally understood what was going on. The doe's eyes were glazed with a red film as think steaks of blood oozed out from the corners and down its cheeks were it pattered to the floor with little plops. It all made sense now, why the creature was in the house and why it had not taken off running while he'd been slamming around.

It was infected.

One of the creatures that ran rampant in the outside world had bitten the poor creature and now the disease ran rampant in its veins. They had never had anything better to call them other than 'Rabids' because they ran around in a mess of senseless rage, violently attacking and devouring any living creature they could get their claws on. If one of them bit you, it was game over. The virus would take over quickly. The fever would set in as the genes mutated until the person died. But death was not the final stage, which would have been a blessing. These victims would rise again as mindless creatures that lived only to kill.

His blood ran cold, now wishing that he had just stayed hidden. The deer's flat stare remained locked on him, its large frame blocking his only way to the front door. Luckily its eyes, though lifeless, were also still brown and not yet the washed out white that signified that the creature had completely turned. But that did not make it any less dangerous. Creatures suffering from the disease were still prone to sudden acts of random violence. They could go from staggering about in confusion into fierce bouts of aggression. As if to prove this point the doe tossed her head, a throaty growl rumbling from is throat. Daryl had to squash a shudder at the unnatural sound escaped the animal. The creature went tense, muscles bunching up as it began to prepare a charge and Daryl knew he was only going to have a few moments to react. If he screwed it up, he was going to be as good as dead.

Daryl turned and without a second thought launched himself towards the window in the room at the same time the doe made its attack. It reared on him, front legs sawing at the air in a brutal attack. He had been fast, but not quiet fast enough as one cloven hoof came thundering down against his shoulder like a mallet swung at full force. Pain rocketed his body, staggering him forward with a sharp gasp. Thankfully the attack off balanced the sick creature and as Daryl weakly threw himself for the window, the beast behind him crashed into a dresser with enough force to overturn it. Its gangly legs got caught up in the cumbersome piece of furniture which seemed to both confused and enrage it. Its attention was now turned from its human prey to the hunk of once polished wood as it began to hack at it with its front legs, an eerie gurgling screech coming from its throat.

Still, Daryl was not about to stick around and see how long the dresser would keep the doe's attention. It was likely that once she realized it was not a living thing, not prey, it would be back after him and if he simply stood around watching it, it would kill him. Besides that, he had no reason to stay now. The meat was tainted and so his dreams of a warm and well fed winter for him and his group were gone. He stumbled away from the house, trying to ignore the burning throb of his shoulder. In the back of the yard there was a small shed that was starting to fall apart and without any hesitation he headed straight for it. It had four somewhat intact walls and a door which meant that it would at least get him out of the line of sight of the rabid doe. Given it had not fully turned yet, the animal would not yet have the mindless one track hunting mind it would in the near future. Once he was out of sight, he would be out of mind.

He slipped easily into the small space, pushing the door shut behind him and leaning against it with a heavy sigh. How was he going to explain this to the others when he got back? They'd be worried that he was gone so late, especially with the recent rash of people disappearing in the Fringe or being _Taken_ into the Inner City against their will. The vampires had been restless lately and his vanishing act would stir fears and doubts. Had he been killed roaming around at night like no sane person in the Outer City did? Or had he been _Taken_ by some greedy vampire and dragged back to be a pet or worse.

Daryl was not disillusioned. He knew they would not worry because they were upset something happened to him, at least not entirely. It would be because there was the chance that if he was holed up in one of the Vampire Towers that he could give away the location of their hide out for some kind of reward. No one in the Fringe really mourned the loss of another. One felt their brief grief and then moved on. This was the life they lead now. People came and people died just as fast. Unregistered's were constantly surrounded by hunger, disease, death and danger. They learned at a very young age that all that mattered was looking out for yourself cause no one else was going to do it for you. The person sharing a living space with you might be someone you had known for years, but they were just as likely to put a knife in your back if it meant their own survival. Such was life now and there was no time to feel pity for it.

His breathing started to even out as he strained an ear to listen to the sounds outside the shed. That same rasping scream was pouring from the bedroom, accompanied by a series of splintering crashed and fabric tearing. The diseased creature was still wreaking havoc on the bedroom and until it was done, Daryl was not moving. One step outside this tiny little space and he would draw the enraged creature's attention again. He was just going to have to wait out its fit and hope that it was done and moved on before the sun set. There was no way that he was going to get stuck on this side of the wall after nightfall. He might as well walk up to the deer and let it kill him now then risk that suicidal situation.

He still had some time though and so he eased away from the wall to peer around the shed looking for anything that could be used as a weapon. The only thing though was a handful of rusted nails which really would do him no go. Not unless he could manage to throw them with more force than a sling shot. So he kept poking around the tiny area, pushing aside a large set of plastic bins. It was then something caught his eyes; a hole in planks that showed a trap door. His head cocked to the side and he knelt down by the hole as he reached to tug at the handle of the door. It creaked loudly but did not budge. Locked. An annoyed breath left him as he surveyed the area around it noticing that the planks were rotted out. He reached down and gripped one of the boards and tugged it. The wood gave a groan of protest before breaking away with a dull crack.

His fingers kept clawing at the old wood until he created a hole large enough to slip through. There was a set of folding stairs that led down into a dark hole. His fingers gripped tightly at the handle of his knife as he debated going down. There was no telling what was down there just waiting for him to stagger blindly down there. Maybe the previous owners of the house had locked some sick people down there and now there was a group of starving Rabids just waiting for a meal to stumble in. It was the sound of the frenzied deer snarling as it tried to charge out of the window that made up his mind. A sigh left him as kept his grip on his blade and crept into the dark.

The sunlight faded as he descended into the old root cellar. It was dark, but enough of the afternoon rays were able to sneak through so that he could see what was around him. His jaw dropped, shock taking over. All around him the walls were lined with shelves that were overflowing with cans. Their tin outsides sparkled back at him, teasing him with their endless possibilities. He was almost sure that he had forgotten how to breathe and even his heart had seemed to stop beating.

There was no way this was possible. So much food in one place, probably more food than he had ever seen in his life. Shelves and shelves were covered in canned goods. Without thinking he lunged at, grabbing the first can he could get his hands around. The action was so haphazard that he also managed to send three or four more cans crashing to the ground. He did not care though as he buried his knife into the metal lid and sawed it open. A sweet smell invaded the air as a thick liquid spilled out over his fingers. His stomach cramped tightly as the scent caused the hunger to rear its head with a vengeance and he could not stop himself. He dove into the can, lifting it up to his lips and tilting his head back. The mushy triangles of orange fruit filled his mouth and slid down his throat as he ate almost without chewing.

Soon the first can was empty and Daryl tossed it over his shoulder before grabbing a second one. He tore into it, the spicy scent of the chili inside. Digging in with his fingers, he simply began to shovel it into his mouth. He was eating so quickly that he almost wasn't breathing. Still, his stomach was filling and the hunger was fading away for the first time in as long. It took one more can of beans until he collapsed against one of the walls. The starvation that was his near constant companion had finally left.

Daryl stayed slouched against the wall for a few moments longer, afraid that if he moved this treasure trove in front of him might disappear. How had this jackpot gone undiscovered for so long? Any lingering frustrations at not being able to bag that deer were gone. The deer could have fed them for a month, but this…this could feed them for a year.

He brought a hand up to his mouth, licking some of the remaining flavor from his fingers as he peered around the small room. Not that he was full he was more of a frame of mind to notice everything. Not only were there multitudes of cans, but there were also strange silver bags. Not sure what was inside, he picked one up and flipped it over to read the words on the other side. _Beef Jerky. _He pursed his lips slightly in thought. The term sounded familiar and he was pretty sure it was a type of dried out meat that people use to eat as a snack before everything fell apart. Which was even better. More food. It only left him with one problem.

Daryl had nothing to carry it back in.

A dark frown tugged at the corners of his lips. How could he have been so stupid as to not bring a backpack with him when he went out? Of course he knew the answer to that. He had been avoiding Milton, one of the other Fringers that made up a part of his tiny group. It was not that Milton was a bad guy, but he had a way of asking too many questions and then getting all upset when Daryl got frustrated. It was annoying. And Daryl tried to put up with him. He was always making sure the whiny guy always had enough to eat even if it meant that he had to eat less. And he also stopped Martinez from constantly picking on the guy. Milton was weak in body and spirit, and for some reason it made Daryl feel responsible for him. Even if most of the time the guy drove him crazy.

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and chewed on it gently. If he wanted to get some of this back into the Fringe he would need something to carry it in. Even more, if he wanted the others to come back and help him clean this place out he would need proof, something to convince them the dangerous trip outside was more than worth it. Those in the Fringe did not do anything without proof that it would benefit them. Life was rough enough as it was without risking one's life for something that would do them no good. Daryl had seen people run and leave others behind to die just to save their own skin. Not that he could really talk. When it came right down to it, he was pretty sure that he would do the same thing. Or at least he assumed that he would. Life was bad, but not bad enough that he would willingly give it up in order to save someone that would leave him to rot without a second thought.

His blue eyes scanned the room before finally landing on something. On the top of one shelf were a couple of large black garbage bags, bulging with their over stuffed contents. He grinned slightly. The garbage bag was not ideal. It would be harder to carry back up through the tunnels, and it would make a lot more noise. Not to mention that the bags already appeared a bit stretched out which meant that they would not be able to carry much weight unless he wanted to risk them breaking open while he was trying to get back home. Still, they would have to do.

He moved forward, gripping the old shelves and starting to hoist himself up. The wood gave an ominous creaking, bringing him to a pause. For a few more seconds there was no sound and the shelves were seeming to hold his weight. He climbed a bit farther up and reached up, making a grab for the closest bag. Just as his fingers wrapped around the shiny plastic there was a loud crack beneath his feet. Daryl only had time to blink before the shelf beneath his feet snapped in half. Panic raced down his spine as he pushed off the breaking wood and twisting metal in a desperate attempt to break from of what he knew was about to happen. He was not in time though. The old shelves shuddered violently and with one last horrible groan pitched forward, slamming down into Daryl. It was the last thing he saw before a sharp blast of pain and blackness swept up to swallow him whole.

It was the dull throbbing in his skull that pulled him back out of the darkness. Blue eyes blinked slowly, trying to focus on the world around him. He could not remember what had happened or why everything around him seemed to me writhing in shadows. It was like night had crept on him while he was not paying attention and yanked him into its dangerous embraced. His muscles strained as tried to sit up, but something was pushing down on his chest and legs, keeping him flat on his back. Confusion filtered through him as he struggled in a groggy manner against whatever was keeping him pinned down. There was a moment where he thought he was done and nearly lashed out at his prisoner.

That was when the metallic clinks of cans reached him. Those sounds brought it all rushing back. The deer, the run, the basement, and the shelves upon shelves of food. Daryl flinched to himself as he saw those towers of metal and wood falling towards him again. How stupid could he be? He turned slightly, shoving at the shelves again in the hopes of knocking it off the top of. They moved with a loud screeching, the metal grinding against the cement floor. It caused him to wince as the sound bounced off the walls of the small room around him, dangerously loud. His narrowed blue eyes flicked about the room, trying how deep the level of shit he was in was now. A few small holes in the floor above him gave him a view of the night sky. Stars blinked back at him, as though laughing at his predicament.

"Fuck." He groaned, finally managing to get out from underneath the broken shelves. "Real smooth, idiot. Way to fuck yourself over."

It was night and he was trapped out in the ruins. Beyond the safety of the wall that blocked those in the Fringe he was left at the mercy of the creatures that made the night their home. A violent shudder ran down his spine as he stood up, legs shaking a bit. How long had he been laying there unconscious? It could not have been too long because there was no thin white creatures trying to claw through a hole and screeching at him. Still, he was lucky. Even a few moments after sundown was plenty of time to end up a smeared mess of bloody ribbons.

Daryl raked one hand through his hair with an impatient sigh as he looked around at the cans rolling about his feet. As much as he wanted to start stuffing them into a bag and drag them back inside the safety of the wall but he had run of time to do that. His very stomach clenched at the thought of having to leave so much food behind. But right now safety was his number one priority. A bag full of clanging cans would not only slow him down, but he might as well stand in the middle of a field and cut himself, waving his blood about and screaming at them to come and get him. Snarling a few more curses at himself, he reached down and grabbed one can to stuff in his pocket. At the very least he was going to bring back one thing to try and convince the others to come back during the day.

Right now he had to get out of here. If he stayed to long and _they_ sensed him there would be nowhere that he could hide. Once those things caught a hold of your scent, there was no way to hide from them. They were relentless and would tear through solid walls to get at the prey they knew where on the other side. He cast one sad look at the treasure trove he would have to leave behind before making his way back to the ladder. With slow, silent movements he climbed back out of the hole that had almost become his tomb. From here on out he would have to be extra careful. One misstep and his life would be over.

Once back inside the shed, he started for the door before he heard a sound that froze him like a statue. Despite the stillness of his body, his heart hammered against his ribcage. It could not be worse. Here he was thinking that he could just sneak out and dash for the sewer drains again. Yet there it was again. The shuffling sound of footsteps along the outside wall. Daryl was pretty sure that he could actually feel his heart pounding in his throat. He took a step back, trying to slip into the shadows as he slipped his knife from its spot on his belt.

_Go away, dammit. _ He growled to himself, blue eyes catching sight of a thin form as it crept past one of the cracks in the shed wall. A few seconds later the door started to creak open, a wheezing growl filling the darkness. Daryl held his breath, pretty sure he was about to pass out from the panic that wormed through him. The only problem was that if he did that, he was certainly dead. At least if he made the attempt to stay on his feet and stay quiet he might make it out alive.

He _might_.

He closed his blue eyes as the growls continued to swell around him, almost as if they were coming out of the very shadows that coated the room. It had to leave, there was no way that he could go out like this. Just another simpering idiot that was not careful enough and got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had survived for so long by paying attention, by staying one step ahead of everyone else. One step ahead of _everything_ else. And worst of all, if he died out here in some falling apart shed no one would ever know what happened to him. He would just be another Unregistered Fringer that vanished into the nothingness of the night. Daryl Dixon, forever MIA.

He was pretty sure he was going to start hyperventilating. If the creature did not make the choice to attack or leave soon, he was going to pass out from the stress of trying to remain unseen. _Go away…go the fuck away! _The voice in his head was screaming despite the silence of every other part of him. He could see the ghostly creature looking around, eyes flickering past the spot where he remained hidden. Another faint growl twisted its way through the room before the door slipped shut with obscenely loud screech.

Even though the creature had left, Daryl found himself still glued to the same spot. His muscles were twitching, his entire body vibrating in shock. As far as he knew, no one had come that close to one of those things without being attacked viciously. One hand moved, lifting to his chest to press tightly. He could feel his heart hammering against his palm. That had been close, too close. It was well past time to get the fuck out here.

Daryl pushed away from the wall and slipped from the shadows. Despite the urge to just rush out into the open area and run in blind terror towards the sewer drain, he managed to keep a sense of calm about him. He crept to the door and pushed it open just enough to peer out. His fingers tightened around the handle of his knife just in case his little visitor had not gone as far as he hoped it had. The long grass swayed in the night breeze, and he realized with a sick sense of horror that there were multiple tracks crisscrossing through it. The beaten down paths of creatures hunting in the night. He was not alone and had not been for some time. A shudder rolled through him at the idea of how close he had come to being torn apart while he did nothing but lay in a stupid, unconscious heap.

That settled it. There was no more time for being subtle or sneaking about. He had to get out of there right away. Still gripping his knife tightly, aryl drew in a deep breath and burst out of shed, tearing across the open field and towards the large open drain that would take him back to safety. Somewhere in the distance came a horrid screech, a creature howl out its intent to hunt. Daryl did not bother to look back or even slow down. He just continued to run as if demons were nipping at his heels. Which was scarily close to the truth.

It had seemed like hours, but in fact it had only been a few minutes from the time that Daryl had bolted from the shed until he was safely tucked on the other side of the thick manhole cover that blocked his path from the outside world. He leaned back against the twisted metal wall, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. A few heaving breathes left him as he tried to calm his still pounding heart. It still would not calm down though and he knew why. He was not safe yet. There were still monsters that hunted inside the walls just as dangerous as those that stalked the night outside. No, he would not be truly safe until he got back to the place that was home. The old warehouse in Sector Four.

Drawing in another breath he shook his head and fought off the anger at his careless mistake. That and the fact that because of that mistake he had had to leave so much food behind. He clenched his jaw and pushed off the wall, tearing off into the night and hopefully safety.

Daryl was exhausted by the time he slipped back into his room at the warehouse. Being safe and inside finally had caused his adrenaline to wear off. His muscles felt weak, trembling all over. His legs felt like they were made of water and he was not sure how they were even holding him up anymore. All he wanted to do was find his moth eaten, somewhat moldy mattress and collapse into a ball on top of it. He could face trying to convince the others to head out once he had gotten some sleep.

Though it seemed that was not going to happen. As soon as he opened the door that lead to his small room he was greeted behind wide eyed stare from behind a pair of wire frames. Milton's mouth hung open slightly as he jumped up. It was obvious that he did not think he would be seeing Daryl again. Not really a surprise. Most people that were caught outside after dark alone were never heard from again. While the 'concern' was touching, Daryl really was not in the mood to play this game.

"I can't believe it!" Milton whispered. "I thought you were dead or Taken! How did you get past them all?"

Daryl pushed past him, moving towards his mattress. He was really not in the mood to try and quell his friend's street rat paranoia. Not that it was not well placed. Had it been anyone else, Daryl would have thought the same thing. Had it been Milton, Ed or Jacqui he would have assumed the worst. Still, there was really no time to care. He would have moved on and accepted as just another part of living in the Fringe. You never get close to anybody because they would die eventually. It was just the way the world was now. Attachments were weaknesses.

That was when something he said caught his attention. Stopping just before he could collapse into his bed, he turned to face Milton, gaze narrowing. He had to have heard that wrong.

"What do ya' mean how'd I get past _them_?" He asked, feeling his already overworked muscles tensing. "Them who?"

Milton blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear something out of his eyes. He stepped forward, one finger lifting to his lips. He chewed on a hang nail in a nervous fashion and for a brief moment the smaller man reminded Daryl of a rat. A sigh left him, a hand raking through his hair in annoyance as he waited for Milton to finally out with it. Milton's hand finally dropped away from his lips and Daryl knew the man was about to spill everything.

"The vampires have been out all night." He blurted out, eyes wide. "I saw them roaming around, looking about. They even came here, but we hid until they left and they couldn't find us. Or they weren't really trying to find us." Milton's shoulders lifted in subtle shrug. "They were looking for someone. Or at least that's what Jacqui said. Said they didn't seem interested in any of us Unregistered at all."

Daryl felt a shiver trace down his spine. A group of vampires were out and searching the city and yet they did not care about all the humans running about? That was highly unusual. Vampires only saw them as food so there was no way they would go tromping through the Fringe in search of a human and yet leave all the rest of the breathing population alone. Which meant what they were looking for was not human.

They were looking for another vampire.

"I think someone said something about another lockdown." Milton went on, ignoring the fact that Daryl had not said anything since he started in on what was going on. "And you know what those are like. Curfews and constant guards. We're going to be locked up for a long time. Until they get whoever they are looking for."

That was the last straw. Daryl simply flopped down on his mattress as though someone had cut his strings. All he could think about right now was that basement full of food that would be out of reach unless he could convince the rest of the group to go after it before a lockdown was called into effect. This night just kept getting better and better. Exhaustion ate away at him, blurring the corners of his vision. All he wanted to do was get some sleep before facing the problems of getting all that food the next day before the damn blood suckers trapped them all in their little hovels.

"Daryl?" Milton's voice cut through the haze of wanted sleep. "What now? What do we do?"

Daryl groaned, turning on the mattress so that his back faced his friend. He was just too plain tired to deal with any of Milton's whining. Daryl did not have all the answers and he was tired of everyone thinking that he did. Of wanting him to tell them what to do or where to go. All he wanted to do was sink into the abyss and let everything wash away for a few hours until he would have to face it all over again.

"We're going to get some sleep." He muttered. "In the morning the vamps will be gone and we can figure things out. But right now, it's just time to sleep."

He heard Milton's sharp intake of air as the other prepared what Daryl was sure would be a long speech of nothing but complaining, simpering and whining. Which was something that he did _not_ have the patience for. Snarling under his breath he turned his head and snapped his head around to glare at Milton with sharp, ice blue orbs.

"I am going to sleep _now_, Milton." He growled. "If you want to stay awake and piss and moan about things that you can't change, go do it somewhere else. I just want a few hours before the sun rises. Go bug Jacqui about all your concerns that you can't change, but for now, get the hell out of here."

Daryl flopped back down, only listening to the sound of Milton's hesitant breathing before the soft sound of footsteps receded to the door. There was the slight creak of hinges as the other crept out. He had to admit, at least to himself, that he did feel a little guilty about yelling at Milton. The guy always seemed so fragile, clinging to Daryl for strength. And usually Daryl was grudgingly okay with that. But not tonight. Tonight he just wanted sleep because when dawn came they would be heading back out into those ruins and one way or another they would get all that food back.

With that decided, Daryl let the darkness slip up and eat away at reality. A reality that was filled with nightmares; vampires, rabids, and manhunts, oh my! He drifted off knowing that tomorrow would be the start of something better.

It was too bad he had no idea how right, yet how wrong he was about that.

**And there you have it. Please let me know what you think by leaving a lovely little review!**

**In the next chapter, the action (and blood) starts.**

**Looking forward to hearing what you all think!**


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